Rebel Roused (Untamed #5) by Jinsey Reese, Victoria Green

to one side, a handkerchief in her hand and tears almost in her eyes.
    It was the photo op of the century for them.
    I’d been too out of it to react, but Dare hadn’t. He’d thrown the reporters out amidst a flurry of flashes going off, and then stayed by my side during the subsequent awkward visit. Since then, my parents had been too busy winning and then celebrating my father’s election, and I’d ignored every one of their calls for appearing at press conferences.
    And yet, here they stood, looking incredibly uncomfortable and out of place. My mother kept throwing glances toward the street, eyeing the few neighborhood kids hanging around as if she expected them to do something “undesirable” at any moment.
    But there were much worse things in this world, I knew all too well.
    The sheer stupidity of the situation should have made me laugh, but I was too stunned by their presence to do anything but open the door and gape at them.
    “Honestly, Reagan,” my mother said, her hand patting her hair as she turned to look behind her one more time. “It is proper to invite people in when you answer the door. You were not raised by wolves.”
    “Nope. More like snakes.” I held the door open wider to usher them inside.
    “What?” Her eyes widened as she scurried into the seeming safety of the apartment.
    Safety was relative, I’d learned. I was still having trouble feeling safe anywhere if I allowed myself to think about it. So I didn’t. As much as possible.
    When Dare and I were together, I felt fine. Especially at home here. The problem was going out. I felt exposed, vulnerable, like a walking target. No matter how many times I reminded myself that Daren was dead and gone, I still couldn’t shake the feeling that danger was lurking around every corner.
    Shit happened. And if it had happened once, it could happen again.
    “Reagan.” My father nodded as he passed. Things had been frosty between us ever since I’d trumped him with Stanzi, but he no longer treated me like I was his own personal Doormat Barbie. We both knew that he couldn’t manipulate me into doing whatever he asked anymore. I’d more than earned his respect—I’d blackmailed him into giving it to me. And I liked that feeling more than I’d expected.
    Perched on the sofa a few minutes later, they both looked wildly out of place on our well-worn brown leather couch. My mother even had the audacity to wipe the seat off before she slowly lowered herself onto it, only after taking the time to scrutinize the room with a distasteful, icy glare, of course.
    I tried to see the apartment through her eyes, but all I saw was Dare. Everywhere. He was color, vibrant and true, and he was splashed all over the walls—his paintings, Rex’s, and other artists he’d collected over the past several years. I loved this place so much. It was the polar opposite of my parents’ house—I was sure their senses must have been overwhelmed. Considering they viewed the world in black, white, and the multitudes of grays in between, I wasn’t sure if they still even had the ability to see in color, to feel warmth.
    I started shaking my head as I looked at them, wondering why in the world they were actually here, thanking god Dare was out—he didn’t need to be subjected to their bullshit.
    “So,” I said, after I’d carefully sunk into the overstuffed armchair across from them. Even though my wound had healed, the ghost of pain from those first few excruciating days haunted me. And so I still moved with caution. “To what do I owe this…pleasure?”
    It was an incredible stretch calling their visit that, but what the hell. My head ached, my stomach felt tight and hard, and I was dying to swallow something just to take the edge off.
    My pain pills were gone, and the drugs Dare’s dad had pumped through me were completely out of my system, but still I felt the craving like a deep, dark itch. An itch there was only one way to scratch.
    No, I couldn’t think